


A Way to Make Light

by recordmachined



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:59:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8474500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recordmachined/pseuds/recordmachined
Summary: Baz is back at Watford after spending six weeks in a coffin and wants nothing to do with Simon, which is easier said than done.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story in the fandom and it's my take on the events that take place after Baz returns to Watford. A million thanks to my lovely beta [thekeyholder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder)
> 
> Title taken from The Fixer by Pearl Jam.

**BAZ**

It’s been a week since I made my theatric entrance back to Watford, and I've spent the majority of my time trying to avoid Simon Snow. Trying and failing because I can't seem to escape him. I do realise that I practically live with him, but we have managed to avoid each other in the past. In my defence, I haven't fully recovered from the kidnapping ordeal, and Snow is particularly relentless this time.

Even in class, I can feel him - actually feel him - drilling holes into the back of my head with his stare, his magic leaking all over the place. Sometimes, I notice others around him flinching or grimacing involuntarily - that's how powerful it is. Bunce glares at him from time to time, trying to catch his eye and make him stop.

But he's too busy glaring at me.

I don't meet his gaze.

It would be easy, to only tilt my head to one side and sneer at him. With the intensity of power that is pouring out of him, all I have to do is nudge him slightly, and he'd go off. The thought is tempting, yet somehow I can't bring myself to do it. It's not that I wouldn't enjoy seeing him go off and smell the smoky, almost woodsy, scent of his magic. It just seems too much of an effort right now. Too much of an effort to push his buttons. Too much of an effort to harass him.

It's too much of an effort just to face him.

I don't know what changed. Perhaps it was the kidnapping, knowing that Simon Snow was the one who kept me alive, kept me from losing my mind in that bloody coffin, that has me on edge right now. There were times when I thought I'd never see him again. I can't remember if that thought had been one of reassurance or utter heartbreak.

After Fiona came for me and brought me back home, I knew I wanted to see him again. I wanted to feel his smoky magic burning against my skin. I wanted to push him against the wall and punch him. I wanted to kiss him.

I can't though, can I?

Maybe that's what's bothering me. It's like an itch under my skin that I can't seem to scratch off.

So, I ignore him. Because it's easier. Even more so than trying to hate him. Besides, what would be the point of engaging him? I can tell nothing has changed. The fact that he pestered Niall and Dev for weeks for information regarding my whereabouts is a mildly comforting thought. It doesn't last long, though. He's Simon Snow, and he simply has to know everything about everyone, especially me. He has no real concern for me. He probably thinks I was off, plotting elaborate plans to kill him.

I know his daily routine well enough to avoid him in our room. I wake up earlier than he does, and I leave before he has the time to start anything. During the night, I stay in the catacombs until late, so when I return, he's already asleep. He tries to catch me after some of the lessons we have together, or stares at me when we are in the dining hall during our meals. I notice Bunce throwing him exasperated sighs and trying to shake him off. But he never stops looking at me. It's like our fifth year all over again, and I should probably be flattered. 

I never look back at him, though. At least when he is watching me. I don't think I have the strength not to look at him ever. But I think I've given up trying to play cat and mouse games with him. The fight has just left me. Because I know there's no way I can ever win.

I'm sitting with Dev and Niall at our table right now, and I can feel his eyes upon me. I can feel his magic from all the way across the room. I'm fucking weak and a slave to temptation, so I turn my head slightly, catching his gaze with the corner of my eye. He startles, his blue eyes widening momentarily before a frown settles on his brow.

I want to sneer at him, curl my lip, so he gets an eyeful of my teeth. I know that irritates him immensely. Instead, I heave a small sigh and look away, my shoulders hunching in defeat.

  
  


**SIMON**

Penelope has been trying to distract me. It was subtle at first, but now, I can tell she's getting desperate. I can't really blame her. I mean, I am probably being difficult, but I can't help it. I just have to know where Baz has been all these weeks.

There is all kind of chatter about what Baz was doing whilst he was away. As ridiculous as the dark, coming of age ceremony sounds, I wouldn't put it past the Pitch family to actually do something like that. Some say he decided to skip the eighth year after all. Neither Penny nor I believe that, because Baz would never let Penny reach the top of our class without a fight. Penny thinks he was just sick. I was sure he was off conspiring with the Families.

Until I saw him walk in through the doors during his grand entrance.

All right, maybe I didn't see it immediately, except I  _ have _ been watching him all the time, so naturally, I am bound to notice. He looks awful; his skin is deathly pale, and he seems to have lost a lot of weight. He is also limping. He hides it well, although I can tell, especially when we're nearing the end of the day when I follow him to the dining hall. He has been favouring his left leg.

There is something  _ different _ about him. His shoulders are almost always hunched, and his eyes are always on the floor whilst he walks, something he has never done before. Baz has always been haughty, walking the corridors with a certain command, as if he owns the place. Now, he just looks tired and... defeated. I'd imagined such a sight would bring me a twisted sort of satisfaction.

It doesn't.

Instead, something uneasy has settled itself in the pit of my stomach. I just want to grab Baz by the shoulders and ask him what's wrong.

I know he has been ignoring me. He doesn't even look at me anymore, which pisses me off. He has been ignoring Agatha, too, which I probably should be happy about and yet, Agatha is the last thing on my mind right now.

"Simon, would you stop with the staring? People are starting to talk."

Penny is pulling my shirt sleeve. I turn to look at her, and she looks pissed.

"I have to know," I tell her.

"No, you don't," she says. "Just leave him alone."

"I can't."

Penny rolls her eyes. "Yes, you can. Besides, he hasn't even bothered you since he returned."

_ That's what worries me _ , I think. But I don't say that to Penny.

I look at Baz again. He is sitting with Dev and Niall across the hall. His dark hair, which is usually slicked back, is hanging loosely around his face. It's also longer since the last time I saw him.  It makes him look younger somehow. He's leaning forward with his arms resting on the table, as if he's paying attention to the conversation. But his eyes are unfocused.

He probably senses me watching him, and tilts his head to meet my gaze. I'm surprised that he has finally looked at me, and I'm almost expecting him to sneer at me as he normally does. But he sighs, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly, looking incredibly sad before he turns away.

Something lurches in my chest.

_ I want to fix him. _

What the fuck? Where did that come from?

I shake off that thought and turn back to Penny. She's saying something about her mum coming to pick her up in a day. She has been trying to convince me to go with her, and I've been refusing. I still have to talk to Baz, and the weekend seems like my only chance.

When I go up to my room later that night, I'm surprised to find Baz there, standing and looking out the window.

"Hello, Baz," I say, tentatively. He doesn’t respond, and I just stand there staring at his back for a few minutes like a bloody idiot. "Baz," I start, but he suddenly whips around.

"Whatever it is, Snow, not now," he says, backing up towards his bed.

I take a step towards him. "Baz, can you just listen for a moment?"

"If you're going to ask me where I've been, save it. I'm not telling you."

“But Baz--”

"Snow, just drop it, okay?" He rubs his eyelids with the pads of his thumb and index finger. He looks exhausted.

_ I really want to fix him. _

"What the hell happened to you while you were away? I've never seen you look like this."

He narrows his eyes at me. "Like what?"

I shrug, and I can tell that it annoys him, so I quickly add, "Like shit."

He arches an eyebrow. “Likewise, Snow."

I try to smile, but I'm pretty sure it comes out as an awkward grimace. A fleeting look of amusement crosses his face before he's frowning again.

I clear my throat. "Where  _ have _ you been, Baz?"

He groans and then glowers at me. "None of your fucking business, Snow."

"But--"

"Just leave me alone for once," he shouts and storms out of the room.

I’m pretty confident he’s going to the catacombs again, and I start to follow him, but then suddenly I remember the Visiting and his mother. Shit.

  
  


**BAZ**

Fuck Simon Snow.

I can handle my idiot roommate blustering and huffing at me, but  _ Crowley _ , he's being... kind.

It’s making me sick. And it’s becoming harder for me to hate him. Or ignore him.

On top of it all, he found me in the Mage's office and gave me the photograph, all the while looking at me like I was a kicked puppy that he wanted to hug.

I would have let him. Crowley knows, I would have let him.

But I ran out of there before I did something stupid.

I've been wandering the grounds aimlessly, and I eventually end up in the catacombs. I've been here all evening looking at the photograph, alternatively thinking about my mother and Simon. I let myself cry hoarse, because I miss my mother, more now than ever. And I cry out in anger because Simon is going to be the death of me.

  
  


**SIMON**

I wish Penny were here so I could ask her for some healing spells. Apart from the regular  **get well soon** and  **a stitch in time saves nine** , I don’t know any better ones.

_ I want to fix him. _

I can't shake off that thought anymore. Ever since I saw Baz limping away from the Mage's office, I knew I had to do it. I wondered why he hadn't tried to spell it better himself - he's a genius after all. But maybe his magic was insufficient. I have enough magic in me to heal it, but I just need the correct spell.

I don't think I'll ever forget the look on his face when he saw the photograph. It was as if his world had shattered into a million pieces. And then I remembered the Visiting again and how I have to tell him about it as soon as possible. But I can't just tell him and be on my way. I want to help him find Nicodemus and then find his mother's killer.

But first, I have to make him better.

I’m sitting on my bed with a book in hand when Baz finally returns to our room. It’s late, but I’m not sleepy. I couldn’t even concentrate on the book anymore. I had gone to the library to search for a book on healing spells, and I found some interesting ones that might work, but I can’t be sure.

Baz is pointedly avoiding me, but I can see his face, and it’s red and splotchy like he’s been crying. I feel a pang in my chest. I don't say anything, though. He smells like dust, and I'm quite certain there is a cobweb stuck in his hair. He quickly gathers his clothes and heads to the bathroom for a shower.

I set the book aside and sit on the edge of my bed. I'm going to tell Baz about his mum when he comes out of the shower. And then I'm going to try and heal his limp. Or maybe I should fix his leg first and then tell him about his mum. That way he's less likely to kill me, right? I think I sit pondering about it for too long because Baz is stepping out of the bathroom, smelling like cedar and oranges.

"Baz," I say, standing up. "I need to talk to you."

"Not really in the talking mood right now, so fuck off."

"Please, just hear me out, all right? This is important." I try to sound as sincere as possible, and it works.

Baz flings his towel on the chair and sits on his bed. "Fine, let's get this over with. Say whatever you have to say."

I sit on my bed, facing him, drumming my fingers on my thighs. "It's umm... it's about..." I trail off, suddenly nervous. Baz is starting to look angry now.

"Spit it out, Snow!" he shouts, impatiently.

I suck in a deep breath to steady myself. I look him straight in the eye and say, "It's about your mum. While you were away, there was a Visiting and she..."

I trail off because he has guessed it, and his eyes go wide for a moment before his face crumples. "My mother....she was here?" he chokes out, his eyes going misty.

In a flash, I'm on his bed beside him, taking his hand in mine. I squeeze his fingers in what I hope is a comforting gesture. Warmth blooms in my chest when he doesn't pull away and instead, curls his fingers around mine. We sit like that as I tell him about his mother and Nicodemus, and how she wants him to find her killer.

With every word I say, his face crumples further. A lone tear escapes from the corner of his eye and falls down his cheek. He blinks rapidly and starts to move away. I throw my arm around his shoulders and pull him back towards me.

"I'm so sorry, Baz," I tell him while rubbing his back. He sinks into my chest, his arms coming around my waist.

"I should have been here," he mumbles against my t-shirt. "Fucking hell, I should have been here."

"Where were you, Baz? Why couldn't she find you?"

He withdraws his arms and shifts away from me, rubbing his nose. He is silent for a moment, and I can tell he's debating whether to tell me or not. "Ugh, all right," he sighs. "I was kidnapped."

_ What the fuck. _ "What the fuck."

He huffs out a scornful laugh. "Sorry to disappoint you, Snow. I'm sure you're happy to know that I wasn't plotting your death."

I shift close to him and reach for his fingers again. "Who kidnapped you?" I ask, softly.

He probably sees something in my expression, because he sighs and tells me everything. Christ, kidnapped by numpties and trapped in a coffin for six weeks. It's no wonder he looks like he has been to hell and back. He is trembling as he tells me about the whole thing. He looks scared and vulnerable, and I don't think I ever want to see Baz like this.

It's like all the walls between us have come crashing down, and he is finally letting me in. He is trusting me enough to show me this side of him.

_ I want to fix him. I am going to fix him. _

I can feel my magic start to simmer under my skin. I let it surface and envelop us like a cocoon. I place my hand on his knee, letting the magic flow.

Baz gasps, his grey eyes going wide. "Simon, what--"

"Just let me do this for you, okay?"

I don't know what I'm doing, though. I'm running along with my instinct, and it feels like my magic has sort of taken control of me.

_ Fix him. Fix him. Fix him. _

My magic is thick around us now, and I hope to Merlin that I don't accidently burn him. I risk a glance at him. He has gone limp against me, but his eyes are bright. He doesn't look like he's in pain. So, I let my magic flow.

The words seem to come to me out of nowhere. I have listened to the song enough times to know the words. I don't even know if it's a real spell, let alone if it's going to work. I try it away and begin casting  **lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you** .

  
  


**BAZ**

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. This past hour has been like a fucking dream that I kept expecting to jolt awake from.

It's not a dream.

I don't know what made me open up to Simon. He had the softest expression on his face when he told me about Mother. He held my hand... he held  _ me _ . So, I told him everything.

And now, my glorious, idiot of a roommate is muttering - and not singing, thank Crowley - the words from one of Coldplay's most sentimental songs at me. I'm quite certain I'm staring at him slack jawed as he repeats the words a few times before meeting my eyes.

Something hot and blistering shoots through me, and I yelp out loud. It's nothing like the warm tingling of his magic that I felt before. The woodsy scent of his magic is hanging heavily in the air.

_ This is it _ , I think. This is how I'm going to die. Simon is finally going to kill me by spelling fucking Coldplay lyrics at me.

A few moments pass and the heat starts to wane, leaving behind the same warm prickles under my skin. But I feel different, lighter somehow, in spite of having been emotionally drained moments before. I can feel his magic thrumming inside me, wrapping around me like a cosy blanket. My eyes find his blue ones, and he's watching me, looking equal parts scared and hopeful.

"Simon, what was that?" My words are barely a whisper.

"Honestly, I have no fucking clue," he says, smiling sheepishly. "I just kept thinking that I want to fix you, and the words just sort of poured out."

"I think it worked."

"Really?" He looks pleased, his smile widening and my heart skips a beat. "Did I manage to fix your leg?"

"Simon, I think you've fixed more than just my leg," I say. He frowns at first, but then realisation dawns on him, and he smiles again like the fucking sun is shining out of him. I can't help but smile back.

He  _ has _ fixed me. I was shattered, and he has, quite literally, put the pieces back together. I think I just fell in love with him all over again.

He is still grinning at me before he lightly taps his forehead in surprise. "Oh, I almost forgot. Your mum asked me to give you something."

Huh?

I frown. "To give me what, Simon?"

"Umm... I... umm.. it's..." His cheeks have gone red, and he seems mildly flustered. Also, bashful. He seems bashful. He looks fucking beautiful like this.

"Use your words, Snow," I growl at him.

"Don't kill me for this," he says hurriedly, and leans in before brushing his lips against my forehead for a fleeting moment. It's over so soon that I could have very well imagined it. One look at him tells me otherwise. He's blushing intensely, and I guess so am I since my cheeks feel hot. My heart is pounding in my chest and  _ Aleister Crowley _ , Simon Snow just kissed me. "Your mum told me to give you that," he explains.

"Oh, is that all?"

"No," he says. "Not even a little bit."

And then he's kissing me. On my mouth. His mouth on mine. It's hot and wet. He places one hand on my jaw, and the other one slides in my hair. He tilts his head and sucks my lower lip into his mouth. And I finally stop thinking.

I kiss him back.

  
  


**SIMON**

I'm kissing Baz, and I realise I've always wanted to kiss Baz. The soft whimpers escaping his mouth and his fingers clawing at my back tell me that he has always wanted to kiss me too.

The thought makes me grip his silky hair a little tighter, and push my mouth a little harder against his.

  
  


**BAZ**

We've been snogging for a good ten minutes now, and I'm starting to feel a little light-headed. We part with a wet smack, panting into each others' mouths.

"Was that also from my mother?" I ask because I'm a little shit.

He giggles and leans his forehead against mine. "No, that was from me and  _ only me _ ." His voice is raspy from all the kissing, and takes on a hint of seriousness with the last two words.

I raise an eyebrow. "What are you implying, Snow?"

"Hey, you called me Simon before," he protests.

"Don't change the subject," I scold him.

He kisses me again. Softer this time. and pushes me back against my pillow. We kiss languidly, and I know he still hasn't answered my question. But he's lying on top of me, so I'm smart enough to keep my mouth shut.

He pulls back, looking down at me with something akin to wonder in his eyes. I blush under his intense gaze, but I can't look away.

"I think I'd like to kiss you every day," he says. "I'm also going to help you find Nicodemus. And, I'd like us to stop fighting because snogging is a much better use of time, don't you think?"

I laugh out loud at his words, but my heart is soaring. I yank him down, wrapping my arms around his waist. "In that case, let's make up for all the time we lost," I say, grinning and seal my lips over his.


End file.
